


Tantalize and Taste

by RennieOnIceCream (Hitsugi_Zirkus)



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Blow Jobs, Body Worship, Chubby Katsuki Yuuri, Established Relationship, Kink Negotiation, M/M, Oral Sex, Post-Series, Rimming, Semi-Public Sex, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-23
Updated: 2017-04-23
Packaged: 2018-10-22 21:23:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10705386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hitsugi_Zirkus/pseuds/RennieOnIceCream
Summary: “Besides,” Phichit continues when Yuuri gets to his feet again, “it’d honestly be a damncrimefor Viktor to not want to eat your ass. Your butt is God’s gift to humanity and Viktor should worship it like it was meant to be. Can I get a hashtag-blessed?” Phichit clasps his hands in prayer.Yuuri rolls his eyes.(In which Viktor and Yuuri are living together and slowly exploring each other's bodies, and Yuuri learns how to voice his desires.)





	Tantalize and Taste

**Author's Note:**

  * For [trashakemi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/trashakemi/gifts).



> doES THE MOTHERFUCKIN SPLITS  
> hello guys, this fic was commissioned by the perf kk! they came with the Good Stuff again and asked for a fic where yuuri gets his ass eaten and i am here to deliver. i hope you enjoy it kk!! ilu! also this is the first time i've written in present tense in YEARS so. enjoy :')
> 
> Previously and now alternatively titled "your booty deserve a celebration". This is what happens when i listen to bruno mars late at night

It’s the fault of the short shirts that Yuuri always wears during practice. That’s what did it.

Yuuri started wearing them back in high school when he began working out for skating. Back then, he’d been self-conscious about his pudgy stomach and thighs, and how his exercise clothes stretched over his body. When he looked at himself in the mirror though, turning this way and that to inspect every inch of himself that he believed was unflattering, he discovered one good point about his physique, one thing that he didn’t mind showing off with his poorly-fit clothes.

See, Katsuki Yuuri has a quality ass, a fact happily backed up by claims from Yuuko and Phichit, both of them wearing sparkling grins, Phichit even slapping said ass on a number of occasions in Detroit.

It’s perfectly rounded out and creamy and soft like two immaculate scoops of vanilla ice cream at the base of his spine. Its plumpness easily filled out any pants he wore. Working out made the plushness become a little more sculpted and firm, but its still a finely curved ass on top of thick, toned thighs. Once he moves to St. Petersburg and the off-season begins, his rear grows a little larger and softer again, because Katsuki Yuuri’s weight only seems to settle at two points -- his belly and his ass.

But there’s so few things about himself that Yuuri _likes_ , so he latches on to this bit of his anatomy, and starts wearing fairly short-hemmed shirts and form-fitting pants to boost his confidence and show off this part of his body that he found attractive. Hot, even.

Absolutely _none_ of this goes over Viktor Nikiforov’s head.

So there’s Yuuri, pressed against the cold metal of the lockers after practice at the Russian rink, with Viktor’s hands grabbing fistfuls of Yuuri’s ample rear while their lips crush together in frenzied heat.

Yuuri can’t say that he didn’t see it coming -- he’d noticed how Viktor looked at him during practice, how he requested that Yuuri do over his triple axel and his Salchow again and again, the spins causing the hem of Yuuri’s shirt to flutter up just above his navel, and Yuuri would feel the landing in his knees and thighs, the flex of his hips and slight jiggle of his ass.

Viktor had been patient until practice at last was wrapped up -- earlier for them since they showed up about an hour before anyone else to fit both Viktor’s coaching and his own programs. Being a coach and competitor had to be hard on both the body and mind, and Yuuri constantly frets over his fiancé’s well-being with soothing touches and relaxing kisses.

But Viktor still has plenty of energy today. His kisses along Yuuri’s jawline are hot, and his hands squeezing at Yuuri’s hips then sliding forward to knead his rear over his pants were determined and wanting and _ready_.

“ _Yuu-ri_ ,” he whined, voice low and rolling Yuuri’s name in such a way that felt like a heated scratch down his spine. “Little seductress, you’re quite fond of wearing these short shirts, aren’t you.”

Yuuri threads his fingers through Viktor’s sweat-soaked hair. “You coached me for months. You know how I dress when I work up a sweat,” he manages to say between heaving breaths.

The double ententre doesn’t escape Viktor’s notice, and he makes an amused sound deep in his throat. “I know that you need far _less_ layers on if you’re going to be doing more strenuous activities.” Viktor’s hands are fumbling beneath that temptress hem now, a stubborn bit of pudge peeking out from underneath. For a moment, Yuuri is self-conscious, and close to pulling his shirt down over the roll of fat, but then he sees the glimmering interest in Viktor’s lowered gaze. His whole body follows suit as he delicately sinks down until he’s on his knees before Yuuri like a man getting ready to pray to a highly revered figure.

Viktor’s thumb runs across the length of skin, pressing into the pliant flesh. A moment later, he switches to exploring with his lips, planting soft, reverent kisses right above the waistband of Yuuri’s pants. He pushes the hem of the shirt up, inch by inch, peppering more kisses over every bit of Yuuri’s skin he reveals. The coolness of his palm gathers at the contrasting heat under Yuuri’s belly, running up to climb the sides of his ribcage. Goosebumps prickle the gradually flushing skin, following Viktor’s touch.

A soft sigh spills from Yuuri’s lips. The attentive caresses, how Viktor pays so much attention to every centimeter of his body, is a new experience for Yuuri. It’s overwhelming in the best way, the physical praises and gentle, heated worship leaving Yuuri feeling nothing less than light-headed and utterly _adored_.

His shirt is pushed up to his chest, and Yuuri arches from the lockers to accommodate the gathering of fabric further up his body. The chill of the air had him shivering, his nipples growing hard. Yuuri notices how Viktor swipes his tongue over his lips at the sight before rising to give each pert nub a kiss.

“Viktor,” Yuuri whispers with urgency. The tone is meant to say, _We’re in a locker room. We’re in_ public _. Anyone could come in, we should stop_ . It isn’t like they had gone out of their way to be out of sight. But in the rush of Yuuri’s breath, pushing his chest closer to Viktor’s velvet lips, his hands clutching Viktor’s over his hips, he can’t deny that the threat of being caught is part of the thrill. And the only thing contained in the whisper of Viktor’s name is a feverish, _Please don’t stop_.

Viktor pushes his own thigh between Yuuri’s, forcing them open despite the weakness Yuuri feels welling in his knees. He shudders back against the lockers, but is forced forward, his crotch grinding up on Viktor’s leg when Viktor’s hands grope at his ass again. Yuuri barely holds down a soft, pathetic plea of desire, his lips trembling.

“You’re so sweet here, Yuuri,” Viktor whispers against his ear, and Yuuri quivers at the hot breath fanning out against him, a whisper that locks itself right in his mind and multiplies the shivers coursing through his body a hundredfold.

Viktor kneads the fleshiest part of Yuuri’s rear, nails digging through the fabric of the clothing like he means to tear open the center seam himself. Yuuri shudders heavily at the thought, surprised at how little he’d mind trading his clothing for such uninhibited desire.

“ _Vitya_ ,” he urges, rocking up and down against Viktor’s thigh. It’s as much a tease, a heated, _please keep going_ to his fiancé as it was his own indulgence. The friction travels in pulsing waves through him, his cock swelling hard and ready. Mere sweatpants are draped around Yuuri’s hips, it wouldn’t take much for the waistband to be pulled down from his movements, his cock gradually pushing out into the open.

Viktor groans, low and approving at the hardness grinding over his leg. He presses and squeezes at Yuuri’s ass, helping the little rocking movements along. “So _sweet_ ,” he says again, chasing an imaginary taste on his lips. “Makes me want to eat it all up.”

The ripples dancing down the length of Yuuri’s spine freeze his muscles at the sound of those delicious words. He clutches at Viktor a bit closer, trying to steady his breathing. The same idea he’d been bouncing around his head for weeks, ever since he and Viktor started slowly exploring each other’s bodies, comes swimming back. He wants and _wants_.

But Viktor misinterprets his excitement, and moves down Yuuri’s body again. He kisses at Yuuri’s sternum then his navel, his hands moving lower to parallel his descent. Inch by inch, the elastic waistband of Yuuri’s pants is pulled down, and when Viktor is on his knees again, he nuzzles into the bulging outline of Yuuri’s hard cock through his underwear. He mouths at the clothed erection, making the fabric damp with the push of his burning, salivating tongue.

Yuuri _groans_ , loud and agonized. It breaks the silence of the empty locker room, bringing attention to their public space once more. Every breath puffed out between his lips, every rustle of his clothing, even his own heartbeat sounds loud in his ears as if the whole of Russia would hear them stealing this moment of intimacy together.  

The reminder momentarily sobers him up, but then Viktor pulls his underwear down as well, the storage of heat in his cock hitting the cool air. He presses his lips together in a vain attempt to keep quiet, even knowing full and well that Viktor is an expert in drawing unbridled sounds from him.

And then there’s nothing but sensation upon _sensation_ , overlapping waves of pleasure dancing through Yuuri’s body when Viktor’s hand gives him a few strokes, starting gentle then progressively rougher, squeezing at Yuuri’s swollen head. He watches every one of Yuuri’s reactions to his ministrations with lust-filled eyes tinted with seductive blues, framed in elegant silver lashes.

Yuuri’s breath hitches, and he leans heavily back against the lockers, jutting his hips out, wordlessly begging for more.

“Let me hear you, my Yuuri,” Viktor encourages, a heated murmur of words against his cock, satin soft lips brushing over the sensitive skin as he spoke.

“ _Mmn_ , n-no, what if--”

“Someone comes in?”

“I’m too loud?”

Viktor inhales, a rush of breath in his lungs that Yuuri feels as though he’s fallen in which as well. Yuuri is trembling, a mess, and by the time Viktor does take him into his mouth, Yuuri slaps a hand over his own and hopes that his helpless mewl didn’t make it past the locker room doors. He grabs uselessly at the cold steel behind him and Viktor’s hair, moaning as Viktor’s slick heat swallows his cock down inch by inch.

“ _Vitya--_ O-ohh, ohhh~ _Ahh_ ~” Up until then, Yuuri had been staring hard at the sign on the wall, the Russian words making even less sense to his muddled brain and hazy focus. Now he flits his gaze down to Viktor on his knees, his lips stretched around his flushed cock, glistening with saliva. The sight of himself being sucked down beyond those perfect lips, being accepted deeper down against the back of Viktor’s throat, is nearly enough for Yuuri to come.

Viktor sucks wetly and swallows him down with fervor, like Yuuri’s cock is his favorite treat and he couldn’t get enough. Or maybe his vigorous ministrations are meant to draw out the _real_ treat of Yuuri’s release spilling over his tongue.

The obsession with his taste, the eager workings of his mouth, brings Viktor’s earlier words back to Yuuri’s mind.

 _“Makes me want to eat it all up_.”

The itch comes back again, the impatient coils tightening in his body. Maybe -- would it be possible that Viktor would want to eagerly taste him from behind as he did with his front? Would he love it just as much?

“Viktor…” It comes out more hesitant than he intends, and Yuuri mentally curses at himself as Viktor pulls back. He’s uncaring about the spit and drops of pre-come sticking to his lips, and only concern in his eyes as he looks up at Yuuri.

“Tell me, my Yuuri,” he encourages, stroking Yuuri’s hips. The heat slowly calms between them, the chill pervading from the rink gradually blanketing over their skin. It makes Yuuri’s mind a little more coherent, and that’s enough for the first tendrils of doubt to sneak in.

 _Can’t say it. I can’t. What if he thinks I’m weird? What if he thinks it’s gross?_ Yuuri wouldn’t be able to stand it if Viktor thought of him as disgusting. Besides, it wasn’t like they had done anything beyond groping and some blowjobs anyway. Just going at their own pace was fine, right? Yuuri didn’t need to make turbulence just for his own selfish requests.

Yuuri closes his hanging mouth and shakes his head again. “It’s -- nothing, keep going.” He offers what he hopes is a reassuring smile and relaxes back against the lockers.

But the damage is done. Interest was leaving both the atmosphere and Viktor’s eyes, replaced with a confused press of his lips and furrow of his brow. He doesn’t believe Yuuri, but isn’t pressing the issue. The swirling heat of arousal in Yuuri’s belly tightens into unpleasant knots that he’s done something wrong.

“Alright, if you’re sure,” Viktor says slowly, giving Yuuri room to interrupt. Yuuri doesn’t.

Even though the mood has mostly dissipated, out of courtesy for his fiancé’s pleasure, and the fact that Yuuri can’t leave while still sporting a boner, Viktor strokes Yuuri until he comes. The movements were methodical and mechanical, and more distant after Viktor’s enthusiastic mouth on him.

Yuuri’s hyperaware of this, and only feels shame when Viktor wipes up the evidence of their activity with a towel he pulls out from his skating bag. Viktor offers him a smile, but Yuuri doesn’t return it, trying to busy himself with tucking himself back into his pants then turning to access his locker.

This earns him a petulant slap with Viktor’s now cum-stained towel and starts a chase around the locker room that ends with a screaming and mortified Yuri Plisetsky once he enters the locker room and gets smacked with said dirty towel himself.

Yuuri apologizes at least a thousand times. Viktor laughs and laughs.

* * *

“Yuuri, how long have you been killing this poor man?”

Yuuri looks up from the vegetables he’s chopping, making sure his expression is properly in view of the FaceTime camera. He narrows his eyes at the image of his best friend on his phone’s screen, and Yuuri wishes he could chuck the nearby piece of pepper at his face.

“I’m not _torturing_ him or anything.”

“Yeah, but how many times have you tried telling him what you want when you guys get all hanky-panky and then suddenly clam up?” Phichit lays on his bed, his face mostly illuminated by the laptop in front of him. It was an hour before midnight in Bangkok, yet Phichit is wide awake, his energy never seeming to diminish as always, even after a long day of practice.

Yuuri taps his nail against the knife’s plastic handle. “It’s just -- really awkward to bring up,” he says, imploring his best friend to understand. Even being vague about it makes Yuuri’s cheeks burn with heat, but he’s going to blame it on the steam rising from the pan as he tosses the vegetables in for his and Viktor’s dinner. At the moment, Viktor is out taking Makkachin out for an evening walk, and Yuuri quickly uses the time to call Phichit and moan over his ongoing sexual crisis.

But after two months of the same dilemma, Yuuri can tell his friend is growing less sympathetic. Even now, Phichit presses his lips together. “He’s your _fiancé_ , Yuuri. You can tell him anything, just like you tell me everything. Especially when it comes to intimacies like this, you should create a dialogue between you two. People do it all the time, it’s one of the foundations of a healthy sex life. Ever hear of kink negotiation, man?”

Yuuri groans, slowly dragging himself to his knees and out of sight from the camera. He’s been around Viktor too long, he’s starting to pick up his dramatic habits. “That’s for stuff like, I don’t know, tying people up or -- or collars and leashes or whatever. But this is _weird_ , it’s…”

“Oh don’t be dramatic. Asking your fiancé to eat you out is not _weird_ , Yuuri,” Phichit says flatly. “I think you’ve got your kink ratings seriously out of order, bro.”

That -- might be true, but Yuuri’s head makes a lot of things work backwards for him. He has told Phichit before his reasons for being so reluctant to bring the request up to Viktor, mainly that there’s no clean way to say _please shove your tongue up my ass_. Not to mention that the act itself is rather one-sided and Yuuri feels guilty for wanting to do something that only he would get something out of. It feels like he’d be asking Viktor to do too much for him, and Viktor spoils him enough as it is.

He _knows_ Viktor would do anything for him, but surely there’s a line?

“Besides,” Phichit continues when Yuuri gets to his feet again, “it’d honestly be a damn _crime_ for Viktor to not want to eat your ass. Your butt is God’s gift to humanity and Viktor should worship it like it was meant to be. Can I get a hashtag- _blessed_?” Phichit clasps his hands in prayer.

Yuuri rolls his eyes. “Now you’re just being ridiculous. I will hang up on you.”

Phichit grins, triumphant that Yuuri can’t completely deny his words. “Seriously, Yuuri, Viktor would want to do anything that made you feel good. Just talk to him about what you like, and go from there. He’ll hear you out. Then hopefully _eat_ you out.”

The front door opens with the jingle of keys and Viktor happily calling out for him. It gives Yuuri the perfect moment to give a firm, “ _Goodnight_ , Phichit,” before ending the call.

Makkachin arrives to the kitchen first, licking at the back of Yuuri’s knees and swishing his tail heavily against the cabinets, making them rattle. Yuuri laughs, and leans down to scratch behind Makkachin’s ears and pet his head.

“Hey there, boy, did you have a good wa-- _ahck!_ ” Yuuri yelps, staggering against the counter as the large, fluffy dog attempts to tackle him to reach his face for kisses.

Following shortly behind Makkachin is Viktor, tossing keys onto the counter before sliding his arms around Yuuri’s waist. “Not fair, Makkachin, you can’t kiss Yuuri before _I_ do.” Squeezing Yuuri, Viktor leans forward and places a large, showy kiss right at the corner of Yuuri’s mouth. Makkachin swipes his tongue over Yuuri’s chin.

“Whoa, h-hey now-- Wait, I’m going to fall, you two! Pfft, _down_ , boys!” Yuuri settles Makkachin with his hands then tries get Viktor off him by bumping back with his butt. Both calm down, though they’re still clearly ready to pounce on Yuuri again when he least expects it.

Sure enough, Viktor attaches himself to Yuuri’s side again as soon as he turns to stir the vegetables in the pan. His view is momentarily blocked by Viktor’s hair and shine of his blue eyes when he gives Yuuri a slower, sweeter kiss than before. Their lips smack quietly under the hiss of the sizzling oil when they break apart.

Viktor is smiling. “How is my darling tonight? Miss me?”

Yuuri is ready to point out that it’s been only thirty rather short minutes, but he gives in to the sweet, low tones of Viktor’s voice and brushes their noses together. “Yeah, I did. _Okaeri_ , Viktor.”

“Mmn, _tadaima_.”

All through dinner and helping Viktor clean the dishes, Yuuri’s mind goes back to his conversation with Phichit. He wonders if this would be the night that he’ll bring up his request to Viktor. He’s completely open to a dialogue and explaining to Viktor what makes him feel good and his limits and what he wants to try out, and he knew that that’s the healthy thing to do, but…

 _Embarrassing_ , he thinks as he undresses for his shower. Asking for _that_ would be inviting Viktor into an incredibly intimate part of himself, a part of himself that Viktor could slip inside and reach the deepest areas of Yuuri.

But… That’s same reason that Yuuri hasn’t been able to stop thinking about this scenario for _weeks_ . The images burn in his head, of himself on his hands and knees, reaching behind to spread himself open -- _exposed_ \-- with his hands; or of Viktor between his creamy thighs, silver hair tickling his skin… And all the while, Viktor’s sweet, soft mouth would be on him, engulfing him, tasting him deeply.

Standing under the spray of water, Yuuri gulps. He knows so well what that mouth of Viktor’s is capable of. Between heated kisses that steal his breath and talented lips that envelop his cock, Yuuri has plenty of references to dig through when he imagines what it would be like if Viktor would eat him out. Fuck, he could picture every _sensation_ , Viktor’s breath brushing over his flushed skin, the lewd sound of his tongue running across his hole…

The water isn’t cold, and that’s probably not for the best. Yuuri’s cock is steadily rousing, filling with desire after his absentminded fantasies. Rolling his lips between his teeth, his cheeks fill with heated shame as he reaches a hand around and spreads the cheeks of his ass. A fingertip rubs over the tight, puckered skin of his entrance, pressing into the center. Yuuri sucks in a breath.

 _This is ridiculous, you don’t have to fuck yourself in secret, your fiancé is_ right there, he chastises. _He’ll touch you. He’s been rather_ enthusiastic _with his reminders of how willing he is to touch you_.

Well… Maybe not lately though.

After a brief moment of rubbing his hole, he slips a wet finger inside. He braces himself against the tiled wall. Years of ballet allow him to effortlessly arch his back and angle his hand enough to push his finger in all the way.

Maybe Yuuri had done something wrong. Maybe Viktor finally got sick of how indecisive he is when they were intimate, and now he barely wants to initiate anything beyond kissing. Yuuri is lucky enough to get a fondle or two before Viktor pulls back. Of course, Yuuri doesn’t help matters by never initiating anything himself, even though he _wants_.

As if he could reassure himself with physical touch, pretending the intrusion inside himself to be Viktor, Yuuri wriggles a second finger inside himself, desperately arching and thrusting inside, swirling his fingertips against his hot, tight walls. Even if they haven’t gone all the way yet, Yuuri isn’t a stranger to this burn, this stretch.

 _More -- I want to be touched moremore_ more _._

_Tell me all your desires, and I’ll tell you mine._

_Please touch me -- like this -- deeply, so deep, into this part of me_ …

In a burst of decisiveness, Yuuri takes his fingers out and switches the water to ice-cold. Gradually, his erection flags down as he washes then dries himself off in record time. He doesn’t bother putting on the pajama pants he brought in, remaining in a pair of tight boxer-briefs that had a habit of riding up and exposing the cheeks of his ass. The shirt he wears is, of course, short-hemmed even for sleepwear, his pudgy stomach peeking out beneath.

The fact that Yuuri’s legs were bare, plush thighs out in the open, making the peek of his skin under his shirt more obvious, is not lost on Viktor.

“Yuuri~ Do you feel nice and clean n...ow…?”

He glances up to greet Yuuri as he pads into the bedroom. His cordial smile immediately freezes, then falls. It isn’t a negative reaction -- interest is palpable in the widening of Viktor’s eyes, how he can’t stop staring at Yuuri’s legs, the jiggle of his thighs as he walks. Yuuri turns, taking his time in putting his dirty clothes into the hamper -- he even boldly cocks a hip out, his buttocks flexing under his skin-tight underwear.

He isn’t exactly sure when he became the seducing type, but he supposes some lessons from _Eros_ stuck to him off the ice. At any rate, he’s grateful, and he hopes his expression shows none of his nerves.

_Eros, please give me some resolve tonight..._

Viktor’s eyes stay on him as Yuuri joins him on the bed, following every flex of exposed muscle, every peek of pudgy flesh. “Yuuri,” he says. “Uh… No pants today?”

“Didn’t feel like it,” Yuuri says, shrugging.

Viktor blinks out of his stupor, nodding. “Oh, of course. I’m glad you’re feeling more comfortable at home now.”

Yuuri smiles, leaning in to peck at Viktor’s cheek. “Mmn. It’s nice to be home.” He stretches his body out on the bed, and lays on his stomach faced away from Viktor. Like this, his bare legs are in view, leading right up to the swell of his ass.

Makkachin lays at the end of the bed, and Yuuri uses the excuse of his position to cuddle with the pooch as he starts scrolling through his Instagram. The new season would start soon, and Yuuri’s feed was full his skater friends starting to warm up at their home rinks. He and Viktor will have to start coming up with concrete programs soon too; even though Viktor’s his coach, Yuuri already asked to have more freedom with the music and choreography than he ever had in his skating career, partly because he wants to build confidence in his choices, and partly to alleviate some of Viktor’s burden as his coach while also being a competitor.

As Yuuri watches Phichit skate to a Bruno Mars song, he hardly notices the featherlight touch tracing up the back of his thigh until the bottom half of his buttock hanging out from his underwear is playfully pinched. Yuuri jolts, dropping his phone as he turns his head to Viktor.

Viktor doesn’t meet his eyes. His gaze sweeps the length of Yuuri’s leg, resting on the tight and pitiful excuse of underwear clinging to Yuuri’s hips. Experimentally, he pinches at Yuuri’s butt again, and Yuuri does his best to not tense his muscles there.

“Wh-what is it?”

“No-thing,” Viktor sings. His lips curl in a mischievous smile as he flits his eyes up to meet Yuuri’s. “Just enjoying the view you laid out for me.”

“I didn’t do that,” Yuuri grumbles, but it’s difficult to sound convincing when Viktor rubs his whole warm palm up and down the cool skin of Yuuri’s thigh, cupping his flesh. Up, down, up down, then Viktor _squeezes_ ever-so-softly, as if calling Yuuri out on his lie.

“You don’t have to be shy about admitting it, Yuuri. I enjoy being seduced by you… It’s like you finally know just how much power you have over me, and that I’d fall to my knees just from the look in your eyes.”

Pinpricks of electric heat dot Yuuri’s skin. Oh, Viktor is just not _fair_. He speaks of Yuuri being a bold and tempting seductress in the same tone that can so easily undo Yuuri to his core. He exhales to keep himself steady, even as he can feel Viktor’s words dig into him the same way his hands are.

“We,” he manages, “are going to have a _very_ long marriage if every short shirt I casually wear or pajama pants I happen to leave off is going to cause this reaction in you.”

“A long marriage of you showing off your skin after you used to be so shy? Of me touching you just like this?” The possibilities are so very tempting. Viktor shifts, looming above Yuuri. He keeps his hand on Yuuri’s thigh as he leans over, murmuring hotly against the shell of his ear, “Sounds like heaven to me. We should exchange vows right now. I don’t want to wait anymore, _Yuu_ -ri.”

Yuuri groans in the face of his dying willpower, diminishing at an alarming rate, especially as Viktor leaves a trail of open-mouthed kisses along his neck, his tongue pushing against Yuuri’s skin.

“ _Vitya_ ,” he whispers, coiling and uncoiling under Viktor’s hands, showing that he’s willing and ready to be pried apart by passion.

But, to Yuuri’s shock, the opposite happens. Viktor draws back, taking his heat and lips and sweet words with him as he settles back against the pillows. His withdrawal has Makkachin rising as well, and the pooch hops down from the bed to head for his food bowl in the kitchen.

“Anyway,” Viktor says, “I’m glad you’re feeling more comfortable around me, my Yuuri. It makes me happy when you don’t hide yourself from me.”

The words don’t sound like a lie, but it’s clear to Yuuri that this isn’t what Viktor really wanted to say.

Yuuri sits up, fear twisting his gut. It’s a familiar sensation, as is the sinking oppression that there’s some fissure gradually widening between himself and Viktor. Evne though they’re on the same bed, even though they’re wearing matching golden rings. Yuuri stares down at the glint of his ring like it’ll somehow fix this terrifying dread gripping his chest.

“Did -- Did I do something, Viktor?”

Viktor seems genuinely surprised at Yuuri’s question, and the tinge of anxiety tightly laced in it. Viktor’s features soften from their frown.

“What do you mean? You haven’t done a thing, _lyubov moya_.”

Yuuri waits for Viktor to give in and mention a “but…” that would surely follow, but it never comes.

Maybe this is all in his head after all. It certainly wouldn’t be the first time, and Viktor would tell him if there is really something wrong, right? Except, well… Yuuri knows that just like his anxiety won’t disappear overnight, he knows that Viktor will still misstep and assume Yuuri can tell what he’s thinking.

So Yuuri closes the distance, cradling the soft planes of Viktor’s face, thumbing over his high cheekbones before bringing him in for a deep kiss. He kisses and _kisses_ , going so far as to carefully bite at Viktor’s lips in order to earn a reaction. When Viktor does respond though, it’s minimal, almost timid, waiting for Yuuri to awkwardly lead along as he lazily moves his tongue. Yuuri isn’t used to this. He might as well be kissing a wax replica of his fiancé.

He pulls back.

“If I didn’t do anything, then why won’t you at least kiss me? You don’t want this?”

“I want what you want, Yuuri,” Viktor replies, like it was obvious. Even if his words are sincere, Yuuri hates how it sounds like they exist just to placate him. Viktor’s expression is too open, revealing none of his own wants or desires.

Yuuri realizes then that as much as he loves and is eternally grateful of Viktor’s care that allows Yuuri to do things at his own pace, he also wants _Viktor_ to act on his desires too. They’re in a relationship, and that means that they meet each other halfway, with both of them getting to express what they wanted out of an intimate experience.

 _Create a dialogue_ , Phichit had said.

“All I want is _you_ , for you to--to _touch_ me, but…” Yuuri runs anxious hands through his hair. “But you _won’t_. Was it what happened in the locker room the other week? Did I do something to upset you, Viktor? ”

“ _No_ .” Emotion swells in Viktor’s voice, the protest loud and breathless. “No, my sweet darling, of _course_ not. If I could, I would never let you stray from my arms and hands and lips for an _instant_.” Viktor shifts closer, mirroring Yuuri’s earlier action and cupping his face to prove his point. His touch is warm, and the look of love in his eyes, as well as the tender, apologetic kiss bestowed on Yuuri’s lips, are enough to gradually put Yuuri’s heart at ease.

When he pulls back, he searches Yuuri’s face up close and personal. “I admit, I _did_ get a little upset back then, but not for the reasons you’re imagining. Actually, I was wondering this whole time if _I_ did something wrong.” He laughs a little at his admission, incredulous that they’re both harboring secret fears.

Yuuri blinks, equally disbelieving. “But-- You didn’t do anything.”

“Well, when we’re intimate, you always look like you want to say something, but then you say ‘nevermind’ and move on.” Viktor hugs Yuuri to him, petting through his hair, still damp from the shower. “But I know you’re thinking of _something_ , and I can’t understand why you wouldn’t tell me. And then I thought, _Maybe I’m overstepping Yuuri’s boundaries. Maybe I’m doing something he doesn’t like_ . I thought if I waited for you to come around first, you would tell me what it is you want, because… Yuuri, I’d do _anything_ you’d ask of me. When we’re intimate, sweetheart, I just want to make you feel good. I want you satisfied. Yet it’s been the opposite.”

Guilt starts pressing on Yuuri’s shoulders, and he hunches into Viktor’s embrace. He’s right that Viktor had something on his mind, but he never would’ve guessed that it was worry weighing on him too. Both of them are so hasty, relying on activity to get things done; sometimes they forget that a little communication went a long way.

“You’re always so careful and considerate when you touch me,” Yuuri starts. “It’s...overwhelming sometimes, because I can’t ignore how much you care about me. But I _love_ it, I really do. I’m so thankful to have someone attentive like you, who notices when I need something.”

Viktor is visibly relieved, and gives him several more kisses. In between, he laughs a bit dryly. “Haa… A truly attentive fiancé would’ve pressed more on what he could do.”

Yuuri looks down. “Maybe. But I should’ve been more open with you from the start. I’m sorry, Viktor.”

“Don’t even worry about it, _lyubov moya_. Now, will you tell me what it is you want to say when we, ah, get a little frisky?” Viktor tilts his head and smiles, all ears.

Heat steadily fills Yuuri’s cheeks as he’s reminded of the stupid request that started this whole mess. “That’s… It’s embarrassing.”

Viktor raises his eyebrows, very much intrigued. “Embarrassing? Now I’m _really_ curious. _Yuu_ ri, what naughty thoughts have you been having~?”

“They’re not -- _naughty_ , it’s actually kinda-- But still it’s--” Yuuri buries his face in his hands.

“ _Yuuuuuri_ ~” Viktor dramatically drapes himself over Yuuri, clinging to his shoulders. “Tell me, tell me, tell meee~ Whatever it is, I’ll do it. I just want to make you feel good, _lyubov moya_. I’d bring down the moon for you if it’s what you wanted.” The childish wail of his voice is at odds with the fiendish hand skating up and down Yuuri’s inner thigh, but it succeeds in widdling down Yuuri’s reluctance.

“It’s… I wonder if it’ll be okay if you just, uh… Oh god...” He meets Viktor’s eyes, knowing his face is flustered crimson like Christmas wrapping paper. “I was _thinking_... Viktor, can you -- can you eat me out?”

Viktor doesn’t say anything. His expression is carefully neutral.

Yuuri immediately panics, waving his hands in wild dismissal. “You can say no, of course! I know it’s gross and oh god, _I’m_ gross, I’m sorry, just forget about it.”

“Yuuri.”

“Let’s just go to bed and never bring this up again, please--”

“ _Yuuri_ .” Viktor holds onto his shoulders, making Yuuri look him in the eyes. Yuuri slowly relaxes under the grounding touch and Viktor’s smile, which grows outright _delighted_ and full of warmth. One of his hands tousles Yuuri’s growing hair, tucking some behind his ears. “My beautiful, perfect, silly Yuuri… Lay on your stomach for me, _zvyozdochka.”_

It takes Viktor gently nudging at his shoulders and patting over his back for Yuuri to be coaxed into position. Needing just a bit of comfort for whatever is coming, Yuuri hugs a pillow to himself, and the only reason he doesn’t bury his face in it is out of curiosity for Viktor’s next actions.

He turns his head to find his fiancé appraising him with his eyes. The concentrated, adoring look feels like physical caresses over Yuuri’s skin. Viktor’s hands arrange Yuuri’s body like he would on the ice, bending his legs at the knees to raise his hips and spreading his thighs, smoothing the slope of his back into a perfect curve, pushing the hem of his shirt up in the process. The last of Yuuri’s tension leaves under the soft strokes over his thighs and sides, soothing his tense muscles.

Viktor kisses down the line of his spine and all over the tops of his thighs, lips teasing the bottom curves of Yuuri’s buttocks that had been exposed more with his current position. His underwear has been pulled taut over the swell of his ass, sliding back to give the ample flesh more room. The blush returns to his cheeks, and Viktor meets his eyes. He smirks.

“God, look at you. You’re so gorgeous like this, ready just for me. Oh _Yuuri_ , how could you think that I _wouldn’t_ want a taste of you? That I wouldn’t want to become familiar with every inch of you?”

Yuuri sputters, his language output at odds with his brain. “We just-- we never talked about it, and I’ve-- I’ve never been this intimate with someone before, so I,” he presses his flushed face into the pillow, “I didn’t know how to bring it up…”

Viktor hums, understanding. “It’s my fault too. Forgive me, my Yuuri. I’ll do better to help you voice these things, be it inside the bedroom or in our every day lives. But for the record,” he _grabs_ at Yuuri’s ass, making him release a small moan, “ _yes_ . Yes, yes, a thousand times, I very emphatically would _love_ to eat your ass. And if you’ll let me,” he kisses Yuuri’s left buttock, leaving an audible smack, “I’d love to prove that to you now.”

Actually hearing Viktor say it does wonders for Yuuri’s doubts. He feels like melting into the sheets, such promise held in Viktor’s touch and voice. His mouth is already close to where he most craves it, and more open-mouthed kisses keep getting left over the twin mounds of Yuuri’s rear.

Viktor snaps the waistband of Yuuri’s underwear against his hip, and Yuuri mewls helplessly. It’s hard for him to believe that Viktor wants this too, and probably just as much as Yuuri. He spent so long constructing an entire list why Viktor would never want to do this, yet Viktor is pawing at him like he is barely hanging on in waiting for Yuuri’s answer.

“It’s-- Vitya, you sure?”

“Six-thousand percent _certain_ . Please, Yuuri, just let me…” Viktor sucks in a breath, and he pulls at the fabric of Yuuri’s underwear not down, but _up_. The fabric pulls taut between Yuuri’s cheeks, and he gasps at the dry sensation pressing onto his hole and perineum, his hips rising an inch more.

Viktor appraises the new sight, eyes glittering and grinning wolfishly. It fits, considering the teeth that start nipping into the plump flesh of Yuuri’s rear like Viktor means to literally eat it up. Yuuri shudders, Viktor’s saliva cooling on his skin then heating again as a new assault of kisses pepper his skin.

“Fuck, you’re so _soft_. So delicious. Katsuki Yuuri, your ass honestly makes me believe in God again.”

An embarrassed groan sounds in Yuuri’s throat. “Shut _up_.”

“My mouth will be occupied soon enough, darling,” Viktor promises, breath mere centimeters from the center line of Yuuri’s ass. Viktor kneads and sinks his fingers into the forgiving flesh, and Yuuri is sure its growing a dark pink from the indulgent squeezes. He pants quietly into his shoulder, still trying to look back and get an idea of what Viktor will do next.

And then he is sure his skin _will_ get pink, maybe red, as Viktor slaps a hand down on one cheek. Yuuri jolts, a startled moan spilling from his lips. Viktor soothes the slightly burning skin with a tender caress.

“I’m sorry, is that okay, _lyubov moya_? You’re just so delectable, I couldn’t resist. I’ll only do it now if you want it though.” The wanting heat is barely concealed in Viktor’s words, and Yuuri knows he can deny this man nothing. Besides, as much as a surprise as the smack was, the impact had gone straight to Yuuri’s cock, which is steadily growing aroused in his underwear.

“Again,” he manages to whisper.

 _Smack_! A twin burning marks itself on Yuuri’s other buttock. The sound is wonderfully loud in the room.

 _Smack_! Another, and Viktor squeezes afterward, groaning low. Coils of heat try to push Yuuri’s hips back wantonly to meet the next spanking on his ass.

 _Smack_ ! Yuuri’s fingers curl into the sheets and he whimpers, needing, _craving_.

_Smack, smack! “Ah--! Vitya!”_

_Moremoremore_.

When Viktor stops spanking him, Yuuri’s ass his burning sweetly with the afterimages of Viktor’s skin. He can barely feel the kisses Viktor bestows onto the numb flesh, but he can hear the soft, wet smack of his lips.

“There you are, sweetheart. So good for me, you took it so well,” Viktor praises between kisses. “My perfect Yuuri… I want to devour you now.”

Yuuri’s breath hitches, and his cock presses insistently beneath the strained fabric of his underwear. He pushes his hips out more, offering himself up. He manages to turn, imploring to rich blue eyes with shimmering dark-amber. The anticipation alone has him on a delicious edge off _too much_ and _not nearly enough_.

“I-- While I was in the shower, I--put my fingers inside… It… It should be fine to put your mouth there...”

Viktor smiles at the burst, laughs fondly at how sincerely Yuuri prioritizes such details even in the midst of their heated daze.

Something hard and firm presses onto him, digging into the fabric of the underwear gathered between his buttocks. Yuuri quivers at the sensation of Viktor’s fingertip searching for his entrance through the cloth -- first teasing the length of his perineum then moving up to press insistently against the hot, tight rim, like he means to enter. A choked moan, desperate, catches in his throat.

Finally, Viktor pulls down his underwear, spreading Yuuri’s love-sore cheeks and exposing his most intimate area. The air hits him coolly, but Yuuri quivers more at the realization of how exposed he is, that all of Viktor’s attention is on the pucker of his hole. The heat of Yuuri’s blush spreads to his ears and down his chest. This is what he wanted.

Viktor exhales, and Yuuri is too embarrassed to look at the expression he’s making. But his words fill in the blanks well enough as he sighs, “ _Beautiful_. This part of Yuuri is so stunning too, just like the rest of you. I’m so excited -- no one else has known you this much.” A kiss presses on the cleft of his ass. Another one comes, right outside the rim of Yuuri’s hole. It twitches, and Yuuri whimpers as he knows Viktor saw it.

Viktor hums, voice growing soft. “This part of Yuuri too wanted attention all this time. I won’t neglect it anymore. I have so many kisses to make up for.” His words are saccharine and sincere, utterly dripping with his lust and love.

When the soft, velvet sensation of Viktor’s lips press on his hole, Yuuri nearly _cries_. Tears -- of overstimulation? happiness? -- well in his eyes, a high-pitched keen filling the air. Viktor nuzzles and kisses between his cheeks, the wet-hot tip of his tongue circling his rim.

This delicate touch continues for a duration, Viktor’s tongue moving in deliberate circles and swipes that make Yuuri grow dizzy. It’s good that he’s already laying down, good that he has a pillow to bury his face in and muffle his cries, his glasses knocking askew.

 _Better_ . This is so much _better_ than all of his fantasies of this moment combined. But Yuuri should’ve known that after years of dreaming about Viktor -- nothing compared to the real thing, absolutely nothing he thought up could measure up to the passionate undulation of Viktor’s lips and tongue over his entrance, making it slick with saliva. Fuck, he wonders why it had taken so long for him to ask for this, when he could’ve been drowning in this pleasure so much sooner, electrifying every cell in his body.

Viktor presses the flat of his tongue over his asshole, breath panting hot. He moves as desperately and wanting as Yuuri feels, possessively seeking out Yuuri’s taste and heat. It immediately erases the last thoughts Yuuri has that Viktor wouldn’t want to do this. The delicate swirl of his tongue is traded for lewd, wet sucks over Yuuri’s hole, completely enveloping his rim with his lips.

Yuuri breathes heavily to keep from _sobbing_. He can’t possibly focus on anything else but the exquisite pleasure of Viktor’s mouth on his ass, the sensation that shook him to his core, raking waves upon waves of heat through his body.

“Mm--my-- Oh _fuck_ , Viktor-- Oh, _Viiitya_ , good, feels _good_ ,” he slurs, half-muffled in the pillow. The praise tumbles out in Japanese, he realizes belatedly, but Viktor takes the encouragement and sucks over him harder.

“ _Mmn, vkusno_ ,” he manages to breathe when he pulls back. “Yuuri, my angel, you’re so _wonderful_.”

Yuuri, body shaking, tries to rise his upper body, and turns to his fiancé to find him just as flushed. “Viktor-- Wait, pl-please, wanna-- Vitya, your face, wanna see--”

It takes only a second for Viktor to move them. He eases Yuuri onto his back, propping pillows under his head. He slips Yuuri’s underwear off his knees, tossing them aside. Yuuri sees that at some point, Viktor had shoved the waistband of his own pants down, and his cock juts out hard, flushed, and thick. The sight of it shoots a pulse of desire through Yuuri’s body.

He doesn’t even get a chance to ask for a taste before Viktor is between his thighs. Yuuri takes a moment to admire how beautiful his fiancé is framed by his plush, peach thighs before his knees are pushed back to his chest.

“Enjoying so far, my sweet _kotletka_?” Viktor rubs at his inner thighs, and Yuuri lays heavily back on the pillows, feeling utterly spoiled.

“ _Yes_ . Yes, it’s -- feels _really_ good. Thank you, Vitya, I love you, I love you so much, you didn’t have to do this but you did, thank you,” he babbles.

Viktor raises his eyesbrows as he lowers himself down again. “Alright then, note to self, eat Yuuri’s ass more often. He gets _really_ honest and cute.”

“ _Viktor_.”

With a self-satisfied smirk, Viktor’s mouth is on him again. Now that he’s had a taste, he’s more certain in his movements, teasing the tip of his tongue inside the tight muscle and sucking. Yuuri squirms, and now he has easier access to tangling his fingers in Viktor’s hair. He tugs a bit, like he knows Viktor likes, and is rewarded with a moan that reverberates against his sensitive skin.

An intense fever of passion lights a flame in Viktor’s eyes, and Yuuri can see it now, how it dances in the glances he gives Yuuri, in the pretty red dusting his cheeks, in his glistening lips laving Yuuri’s hole with love.

Hungrily, Viktor spreads Yuuri more, dipping his tongue further inside. Yuuri whimpers at the foreign sensation, clenching around the wet, squirming thing. Viktor eases him open again, shoving the tip of his thumb in too to keep him spread.

Yuuri _does_ sob then, chanting Viktor’s name in an unintelligible mess as that sinfully wonderful mouth works on him in a relentless manner, taking and _taking_ more of Yuuri, and Yuuri is all too willing to give everything in exchange for this pleasure. His hips wriggle, pushing into Viktor’s face, smothering him further, and Viktor _groans_ , an utterly ruined and drunken man.

His tongue fucks into Yuuri, pushing the slick muscle in as far as he could, licking along the outermost of his walls. The pressure is new but one Yuuri quickly gets addicted to, panting for more. Delighted moans spill from Viktor at his lover’s response, right inside Yuuri, filling his own breathless lungs. The slight bob of Viktor’s head as his mouth fucks him, the debauched glaze of his eyes, is a sight that Yuuri knows will be burned into him for weeks to come.

It’s so much, visually and audibly and physically, crashing onto Yuuri until he can’t possibly fight his orgasm anymore. He arches, tossing his head back to scream at the ceiling as he digs his nails into Viktor’s scalp.

“Mmn, ah-aaahhhh, f-fuck Vitya, coming, coming, _coming--_!”

His straining cock jerks, and cum splatters over his stomach. He tenses, hole tightening around Viktor’s intrusion, then melts onto the sheets with a heated sigh. Weakly, he uncurls his fingers from Viktor’s hair, the silver tresses an utter mess now.

Viktor tightly whispers his name, then continues to ease him into afterglow. His tongue and thumb slip out, but he continues to stroke over Yuuri’s drenched hole, before giving one last kiss to it. Another kiss is pressed on each of his inner thighs, then Viktor moves up to nuzzle their noses together.

“You did so good, my darling. Perfect. Did you love it as much as I did?”

Yuuri manages a weak sound of appreciation, returning Viktor’s nuzzles as he embraces him. “Loved it. Love _you_. Thank you.”

Viktor hummed, full of happiness. “My pleasure, Yuuri.”

“Did you...really like it that much too? It-- It seems like such a one-sided thing.”

“Oh, I think I got a few things out of it too. An orgasm not the least of them.” Viktor shifts, holding up his other hand that hadn’t been holding Yuuri open. With shock, Yuuri sees cum bridged between the corners of his fingers.

Yuuri’s eyes are wide. “You-- The whole time?”

“What can I say? I said you were delicious.” Viktor cocks a devillish grin. “Not to mention your responses were driving me crazy. I think I found a way to get you drunker than champagne ever could.”

Yuuri squishes his fiancé’s face to keep him from saying more. But it’s true that the evidence is there that Viktor loved this experience just as much as Yuuri did. Yuuri is lucky to have someone like Viktor who always manages to quell Yuuri’s doubts with his patience and boundless love.

That’s what meeting each other halfway is. And Yuuri vowed from now on to do his best to meet Viktor too.

Speaking of which…

“While we’re talking about things we’d like to do in bed… Y’know, kinks and all that…” Yuuri strokes through Viktor’s hair, smoothing the tangled strands. “Is there anything I could do for you?”

Viktor hums, considering. “Well…”

* * *

“Rimming and spanking? Oh thank heavens, Viktor fully appreciates your butt the way God intended.”

Yuuri is proud to hear the words, but still more than embarrassed that he updates Phichit on The Crisis and gets met with this response. And again with the damn prayer hands.

“Yeah, but now I have a new problem because of this.”

Phichit doesn’t look surprised with this information. He’s had years of experience to know that Yuuri’s life never seemed to get easier for him. He straightens up. “Alright, lay it on me.”

“Well, summer -- or Russia’s version of it -- is coming, so…” Yuuri wipes a hand over his face, recalling the conversations and shopping trips he’s had with Viktor recently. Above all, he can’t forget the sparkle in those blue eyes, and the sting of his buttocks because of Viktor’s constant groping and _biting_ that’s given him a bloom of loving bruises.

Viktor's "kink" isn't a kink at all. It's a full-blown _fetish_.

“So...?”

“Viktor thinks I should showcase my butt to him more now. He keeps trying to buy me booty shorts and crop tops.”

Phichit’s gale of laughter is not sympathetic. At all.

**Author's Note:**

> i had so much fun writing this, i fondly called it "an ode to katsuki yuuri's ass" #amen #soblessed  
> ANYWAY i hope this was enjoyable, even a little :') 
> 
> if you want to chat with me or want a commission yourself, don't hesitate to reach me on twitter, @RenOnIceCream <3


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